Arkham Observations
by BluSkyRose
Summary: A series of one-shots revolving around Robin's first meetings with Killer Croc, Scarecrow, the Mad Hatter, Poison Ivy...and so on and so forth. Feel free to request a villain if I haven't done them yet. Rated T to be safe. Title subject to change.
1. Killer Croc

**Disclaimer: You see this pitcher of cranberry juice? That, I own. This franchise, not so much.**

**Killer Croc**

Killer Croc, for all that his appearance claims otherwise, is not a monster. No matter what anyone says, he isn't. Terrible things have happened to him. People—_they _are the monsters. They did this to him. He broke away, once, away from them and their cold, calculating, _terrible_ experiments, and found other people—different people, he had thought—who seemed to sympathize. To understand. They cared for him. Helped him. And then he helped them back, because that made _sense_. Because they weren't asking anything terrible, and he did owe them, so why not? It wasn't like he was doing anything terrible.

But then they ruined it._ She_ did,_ he_ did—it didn't matter. They ruined it. Ruined _him._ But then they were dead, and he'd practically begged Batman to take him to Arkham. No. No _practically._ He had begged Batman to take him back. Because he was surrounded by the blood of monsters, and at least in Arkham he'd be alone. Their blood had stained his hands….He'd only been trying to help. And they'd _ruined_ it.

But now he is underneath a bridge, and all the filth from the tunnels is washing off in the rain. It's turning to hail, now, not that he can feel it. The sewer grate is open behind him—Batman will be there soon—he should just _go._ But…and he hates that he cares…what if Batman doesn't come in time?

Because there is a child, half-frozen and unconscious beneath the bridge, lying still in the mud as the water slips precariously close. And even though…even though he should just rip, and tear, and kill, kill, _kill—_it is a child. A…human child. But a _child,_ dying, and even though there is a symbol on his chest that Killer Croc recognizes, even though he knows, as the whole underground knows, that this one belongs to the Bat…Killer Croc doesn't want to let him die. He has nothing against the Bat. Even if he did, he would not take it out on an innocent. But…and this is why he hesitates…the child (_Robin,_ he thinks the name is) will react like the others. Just like the others.

Killer Croc grunts and shakes himself. He steps away. And stops.

He isn't like them. They are monsters. Monsters.

He turns back.

It is three hours before Robin wakes. Killer Croc spends most of that time wondering how on earth this is going to play out. He has essentially abducted Robin, sidekick/partner/no one actually knows to Batman, the Dark Knight, the man, the _legend,_ who shows no mercy to _anyone _when dishing out justice. Of course, Croc had only done it to save the kid (and how old was he, anyone? Eight? Nine? A very small ten year old?), but he isn't sure Batman will care. But he _had _saved Robin. As soon as he had gotten the kid to his lair and gotten a fire going, he'd known; the kid wouldn't have survived much longer if Croc hadn't helped him. The light showed what the dark had not, and Killer Croc has never seen that skin color on anyone even halfway healthy.

He'd also had to take Robin's cape, his boots, and his gloves off. He should have removed the tunic, and most likely the pants (tights?) as well, but hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. They weren't _that_ wet…and besides, stripping a little kid—or _anybody,_ really—especially while they're unconscious and can't do anything about it is just _wrong_. He'd ended up simply drying the kid off as best he could with a towel, then wrapping him up in more and putting him as near the fire as he dared. He went aboveground, briefly, to steal some quilts and a pillow or two, but other than that he hasn't left Robin's side.

Not that he cares about the kid or anything. He just doesn't have anywhere else to go. He's gonna wait until the kid wakes up, or until Batman tracks him down—which will be soon, Batman never takes very long—and then he can…what? Let the kid go? Well, that one's a given. The sooner this kid is gone, the better. Go back to Arkham? Not if he can help it—that time before had been different. He's changed since then. He has resources, intimate knowledge of the sewers, things that keep him alive, which isn't hard, and well, which _is_ hard.

So. What to do. Maybe he should just drop the kid off at the police station…no, it was still fairly corrupt (he should know) despite the commissioner's efforts, he'd have no guarantee the kid would be safe. Especially as they'd start shooting as soon as they saw him…he'd have no way to put Robin down without the kid getting shot to pieces. He has no way of contacting Batman, though come to think of it, should he want Batman to get the kid back in the first place? It was technically Batman's fault the kid ended up the way he did. Now Killer Croc wonders if that message on the underside of the bridge had been such a good idea; HE'S OKAY, Croc had written, shakily but legibly in white paint, in a place that the elements hadn't yet reached. But maybe he shouldn't have left such an obvious clue. Batman wasn't a good person. He'd never treated Croc like the others, but…Croc's heard the stories. He knows what the Batman can do. Why is he dragging a little kid around?

And speaking of the kid, Robin is waking up…

Killer Croc hunches, frozen, on the opposite side of the fire, half-hidden in shadow and watches Robin extract a small (_fragile_) hand from his cocoon of blankets and use it to push himself up and look around. That (_innocent_) stare locks onto Croc in a matter of seconds. Robin's mouth opens (_scream, they always scream, always—_) in a soft gasp of surprise. He sits up, struggling out of the blankets, yet makes no move to stand. Carefully, he examines his surroundings, and Killer Croc notes that even when he sees his cape (_think I ripped it a bit, getting it off—_), gloves, and boots, he doesn't immediately reach for them. Instead, he folds his slender legs (_so easy to break_) and looks across the fire at Killer Croc. He face is pale, but that could just be the lighting. The fire reflected in the lenses of his mask makes his eyes seem luminous.

"Hello," Robin tells him, and Killer Croc blinks. This is not normally how people react when faced with a giant, presumably violent crocodile. He watches the kid's head tilt, very slightly, as a small frown appears at the lack of response. "My name is Robin…you're Waylon Jones, right?"

Waylon Jones. It's been a long time since he answered to that name.

"Did you bring me here?" Croc doesn't answer that one, either, just watches Robin's expression. "Okay…did you see what happened?"

Killer Croc is ten feet tall and might as well be carved of granite for all the emotion he shows.

Robin shifts, and sighs. He's getting tired again. Killer Croc can actually smell his energy slipping away.

"…thank you," Robin tells him, and smiles. It's a beautiful smile, honest and fairly bright, a bit dimmed by exhaustion, but it's the first smile directed at him in…he doesn't even know how long. He watches, expressionless, as Robin lists a little sideways. "May I stay here for a little longer?" he murmurs quietly, and Killer Croc, not knowing what else to do, merely nods. "Thank you," Robin says again, and less than a minute later he's asleep again.

Waylon…Jones. Is that how Robin thinks of him? As a human? But…what Robin knows about him, surely he learned from Batman. Is that how _Batman_ thinks of him?

He doesn't know whether to be upset or happy about it…it could be an insult or a compliment, and he doesn't know which one to choose. But at the moment he doesn't feel much like hurting Robin, so he figures it's okay.

It's barely fifteen minutes later when Batman comes. Croc's been maintaining his watch over Robin, and when Batman drops down silently, his first feeling is of gratefulness that Batman didn't wake up the kid. His second feeling is annoyance and irritation towards himself for feeling that way.

Batman stares at him in much the same way Robin did when he woke up. Croc returns his gaze impassively. Batman has that unmistakable expression on his face that he gets when he's analyzing a crime scene and forming (and rejecting) theories. He reaches a decision and moves cautiously to Robin. Croc watches him look the boy over for injuries. He doesn't find much; a few scrapes and bruises, nothing terrible. Robin stirs and looks up at him, and when he smiles Croc knows that the people who have been saying Batman's been abusing his little bird are dead wrong.

They talk quietly, faint murmurs drifting across the fire that even with his enhanced hearing he can barely make out. Batman's asking about how Robin's feeling and what happened with whoever it was Robin was going after. Some gang leader.

After a few minutes, Batman straightens, pulling Robin up to stand beside him. Robin's smile is a bit shyer this time when he tells Croc thank you, but it seems honest and now Waylon's just confused. What is _wrong_ with this kid? He's acting like Killer Croc—_'killer' is in his name for a reason_—is little more than a babysitter. Or a friend. A _human_ friend.

Whatever. Batman owes him now. But then, he's not bringing him in—they're actually leaving now—so maybe they're fair. Robin turns and waves and Waylon just nods in response. From the look the kid gives him, you'd think he was Superman or something.

Right near one of the exits to the tunnel, Batman turns back. "Thank you," he says, and it's barely audible but it's clear enough and now Croc knows that he's dreaming. He nods again anyway, and then they're gone.

Odd.

But not entirely unwelcome.

And if Waylon Jones starts using his real name again after that, well. Pure coincidence. And if he smashes Two Face's stupid face in two weeks later when he sees him beating the kid sensing…that was just business. Of some sort. He doesn't have to explain himself to anyone. Go away.

**A.N. Why does that ending feel so rushed to me? Probably 'cause it was…oh, well. Tell me what you think. Good, bad, I don't care. And have a wonderful New Year. :)**

**Oh yeah, and if I remember right Croc was only portrayed like this in the comics…nehh. :P Whatever. It was a really good comic, if you can find it…it's basically what he said; he escaped from…somewhere, I don't recall. But he mutilated himself to do it. He was found and helped by some random guy and his wife, and this friendship thing happened. But they were using him, and as soon as he figured that out he killed them. Then Batman found him and (per his anguished request) brought him to Arkham.**


	2. Mad Hatter

**Mad Hatter**

It was fine before.

It was. It was. It was fine. Good—no, not good, not good at all. But not bad, because, because…oh, I've forgotten. Oh dear. And the now the tea's getting cold, I should_—_no, no, no getting sidetracked now. I was talking about the new one, the small—

why did he do it? No, not the small one, the _other_ one, the one who never needed anybody, and now he's gone and done this, ooh—He was fine before, yes, perfectly fine, fine like me with my hats—oh, but I don't wear the hats now. No, no hats. No tea. I don't drink it, I don't drink the tea.

Nope.

But I wonder—I wonder…does he ever drink the tea?

No, no, no, too dark, entirely too dark. That's right. Egh. Coffee, maybe, or blood…but no tea, no, not for him. But the other one, I told you about him, didn't I? Yes, he's a bit brighter, a lot sweeter, with just a touch of innocence, like _Alice,_ like my Alice, that's right, that's right, I remember now. And his name—ooh. I lost it. It was bird name, yes, pretty little bird…there's a bird on my windowsill now, look—

It has beautiful feathers, honey colored, almost, light brown, like my _tea_—oh, but he's so nice. Such a nice boy. Don't know where he learned, not from that one, no—but maybe from Alice? Yes, he reminds me of her…maybe I should put him in my book? Just a little bird, little birdie in the corner….But I'm out of red. Well, that's no good. Can't make a Robin without red. Oh, that's _right,_ I knew I'd remember, for my book, isn't it such a good book? It made me remember. That's how good it is. Yes, I'll put him in. Such a good boy, he'll be nice, he'll help my Alice.

I can draw him in…her in…Alice? Oh dear, she's gone! Alice! _Alice!_ Where are you? Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I don't want to be late for the tea party. Maybe birdie knows where she is? I can ask him, and then he'll tell me, and then I won't be late for the party! Good. Now, where did I put my hat_…_?

**A.N. That is actually more or less how (at least one incarnation of) the Mad Hatter thinks. :) I read a collection of short comics about the Arkham inmates, and his...ah...rather unique way of thinking intrigued me. It was fairly easy to duplicate, too. And fun. :D**

**Feedback is appreciated…I'd really like to know if there's anyone in particular y'all are interested in hearing about. Also, I realize that this isn't the Mad Hatter actually **_**meeting**_**Robin…it's just his thoughts on him…um…oops? Sorry. I can write the meeting if y'all want. Again, just let me know.**


	3. Scarecrow

**Disclaimer: I own a very pretty orange-and-black dress. I own several very nice story plots. I don't own these characters.**

**Scarecrow**

He scares me, you know. Batman. Most people are scared of him, especially criminals like me, but almost none will admit it. I don't know why; it's so beautiful, fear. And he's the only thing that scares me anymore.

But I also like scaring other people. Although it's gotten easy recently. Much easier than_ being_ scared, that's for sure. That's why, you see, that's _why_, and I have to….I won't let anybody kill him, not if I can help it, all that fear, all that _fear—_

I need it so bad it hurts.

And now I've broken out of Arkham, again, this time with Poison Ivy. We're not really allies, it was just a coincidence. Ivy is boring anyway, I don't want to be her friend, so easy, so _easy _to scare, just take away the _plants—_

Or don't, it really doesn't matter. The important part is that if she _thinks _that all the plants, all her babies are gone and dead, if you make her believe that they have been buried in concrete, if you make her believe that she's _alone—_

It's so easy it's boring. Not like the dark one, though. Not like Batman. I've never scared him, y'know that? Never, not once. Nobody else has, either, well of _course_ not, if I couldn't do it—but that's neither here nor there. Right now I have more important things to think about.

Like how to scare the Bat. I've been trying, trying so hard, but lately I haven't had any inspiration. Or I didn't, until I found out—but slow down, Jonathon, don't be premature, don't be hasty. You don't know yet, not for sure—

See, I think I've found Batman's weak spot. I can't be certain (yet), but yes, I think so. Nothing else has worked, I can't scare him, I can't scare him, _why can't I—_but wait. I _couldn't_ scare him. But now, now just maybe…

When I started fighting Batman, I tried everything I knew to try to frighten him. Nothing worked, and I—_he's the only one, okay? You hear me?! The only one! I scared all the others, all of them—I'll scare you, too, I'll terrify you, show you your deepest, darkest—_

And I was intrigued. Gradually, I changed my strategy, modified my plans and my fear toxin. It was—not exactly a game, more of a—a _cycle,_ an endless _cycle_ of fear, the heady rush as I watch them scream, and then my own when _he_ comes, and he always—it's a cycle.

But still, I was (for the first time ever, mind you, _the first time ever_) unsuccessful. And I began to get frustrated. But now, _now,_ I have another chance. A better clue than all the others put together, useful, yes, I can _use_ this—

But I should just get to the point. See, there's another one. Smaller, (younger too from what I hear, a _lot _younger though accounts do vary), and very. Much. Un. _Tested._

This is what I've been wanting, for so long—a chance, just one time, can I just scare him _one time—_and now this boy, he's young, they say he's Batman's son, heir, beautiful, who cares, it all means the same thing.

I don't know if Batman loves this child. But I know he cares about him. Now it's time to find out _exactly_ how much.

**A.N. When Scarecrow calls Robin 'beautiful', near the end, he's saying that some people think Batman likes him, like romantically likes him. I'm not planning to have **_**all**_** of the villains reference this, but it really was such a common belief/popular speculation (still is, a bit), and I felt like I should put it in a couple, just in passing. Bloody stupid belief, really. If Batman was into that sort of thing, he never would have let Richard become Robin in the first place.**

**Also, another chapter without an actual meeting…it's really just his thoughts. . Sorry, I didn't mean to false advertise…I will do better next time, promise. :( Probably the Riddler, I'm thinking, or Two-Face, as per request. They're both so much fun, I'm having trouble deciding. :)**


End file.
